|Yes these photos are flipped. I do not have the ability to flip photos.|
We meet the Beatles
By William Christopher
In a glit-and-crystal room in New York's sedate Plaza Hotel, the Beatles chose to meet the press.
Ringo on cue, the doors behind the press table opened. Into the room spilled a photographer, a Beatle, a uniformed guard, more Beatles, the Beatles' manager.
A Beatle called, "Hello, kids."
Someone answered, "Hi."
As the Beatles sat down, a press man began. "Here are the ground rules Raise your hand and give the name of your publication. Left to right: Ringo, Paul, John and George"
He continued, "Capitol...present Beatles...gold records...fastest selling releases..."
No one listened.
Photographers jockeyed for position. The Beatles, the gold records, a Capitol man posed.
Three Beatles wore dark suits with shirts and ties, but George had a gray sport coat over a black turtleneck sweater.
The photographers had a go at the Beatles, and instantly each one took on the expression seen in pictures. Ringo glowered, Paul grinned, John smiled, and George just looked.
The photographers were asked to stop. Most did. Epstein, the Beatles' manager, stood, microphone in hand and waved toward the rear.
A voice said, "Sixteen Magazine."
"You look younger," quipped a Beatle.
When the laughter died down, the voice continued, "What were you called before you used the name 'Beatles'?"
John answered in thick Liverpudlain.
"You're putting me on," the woman said.
This was denied.
She persisted, "But on the radio interview last Friday, you said 'Beatles' was the first name you used."
"Did we?" asked a Beatle.
"Liars, aren't we?" from another.
A woman asked, "George why aren't you wearing a tie and shirt?"
"Why aren't you wearing a hat?"
John came to Geroge's defense. "E had a sore throat. That why e's out of uniform."
Tea and sandwiches came; so did questions.
"Ringo, will you do me an enormous favor and push back your hair?"
"Does mail come to you individually or as a group?"
"What do you think of New York?"
Someone asked to direct a question to Mr. Starr. Epstein turned to Ringo to repeat the question. "I just can't do it," he laughed, "...just can't call him Mr. Starr."
"Paul does the spot show where some of you hair was pulled out?"
Paul put his hand to his head, "Ah, this is a wig."
"Will you describe the Mersey sound?"
"That's a name the papers made up."
"Will you date American girls?"
"What are you doing tonight?" John asked.
"On the Sullivan Show, everyone shouted for Ringo. Is he the usual favorite?"
Paul began, "No, it varies." John interrupted, "I was big in Sweden."
And so the press conference went on. They answered some questions seriously and in depth, but for the most part they were simply having a very good time.